A Mom's Life

In many ways, it was a glorious weekend. Andy may disagree, but I really am easy to please. It's not hard to please when your expectations are incredibly low. I have been deprived of many things over the last year and a half; nothing too big or horrible. Just the simple things that make life sweet. Like alcohol, caffeine, time to myself and most importantly, sleep. Andy says that I think of myself as a martyr but he is wrong. As a parent, I do not feel selfless. I feel incredibly selfish. I decided to have children and it is my responsibility to take care of them. The job is 24/7 and some days I get really sick of being responsible and I want to run away. I'm mad at myself for arguing with Andy each day about our schedules and for constantly negotiating for time. Some days I'm only going through the motions of parenting while my mind is longing to be somewhere else, whether it's on the beach or out on a long run. I start to feel resentful when a friend calls and wants...

In honor of Ground Hog's Day and Bill Murray and inspired by Sarah's very perfect text message. Do you ever wish that you could have a do-over? There are just so very many occasions that I've said or done something and pretty much instantly wished that I could turn back time and try that one again. I'd like to have a winter do-over. After my last post I received several emails, texts and calls of concern and support. Thanks for caring and for the Valium, alcohol and vacation suggestions, all equally tantalizing and much more feasible than a good night's rest. This past Wednesday I was on the phone with my mom, setting a date for her to watch the girls so Andy and I can go on a much needed, two-night mini-vacation. We were chatting about the places I've been researching for the last few weeks-affordable and relaxing vacation spots within a four-hour drive. I told her I'd ignored Andy's urging to return to Lake Placid and John Brown's house, where we...

I never knew that Hell on Earth is a cold, icy, arctic tundra. January in upstate is a barren, lonely place. It makes me feel insane. Living here is driving me crazy. Living here is testing every patient fiber in my body. My days consist of dragging myself out of bed in the dark, driving to and from work in the snow and sleet, sweating in my boots and never feeling the teeniest bit of sunshine on my shoulders. I have determined that, like the big, fat, white polar bear I feel and look like, I should just go plop myself on an ice chunk and set sail. Yes, I'm grumpy. Living here makes the grind dig a hole into my soul. I imagine I've felt this way ever since I moved here but having kids, and I'd think being a caregiver to anyone, makes the winter workload a million times harder. For example, I don't want to wash my own laundry and I certainly don't want to wash the 8 other loads of clothes that belong to the rest of my family. Did I mention I'd rather run naked ...

Last January, for the first time, I considered and shared my New Year's resolutions. In preparation for today's post, I looked back at what I'd written a year ago, to see if I had any success keeping my promises and intentions. To recap, I said that I would: have a fit pregnancy (check! I gained only the recommended amount and had a fantastic labor and delivery), read more (semi-check because I still watch way more TV than I should), stay in touch (check! as I predicted, I obsessively check facebook and text message), be a better mom and wife (semi-check, again, as predicted, I swore and stomped my feet a lot BUT I think that I'm doing pretty good as a mom of two and Andy keeps me around for some reason), learn a foreign language and play an instrument(semi-check, I do practice my Spanish several times a year at a Spanish supper club but the instrument has yet to be conquered.) Looking back, I'm not ashamed that I shared these goals with the cyber world and I'm ...

Last night we took the kids with us to a holiday party. While I was trying to hold and eat my food while hoisting baby on my hip, a fellow party-goer commented on Charlotte's attachment to her mommy. I replied that she indeed is my appendage and I hardly have time to do anything at home because I'm limited to one-armed activities. My insightful husband, who until recently spent his nights on the couch while I co-slept, stated that it may actually be mommy who is attached to baby. In response I gave Charlotte a little squeeze and Andy a little smile. What can I say? I agree with him. For awhile I thought my incredibly sentimental attachment to Charlotte had to do with the fact that she may be the last child I give birth to. She may be the last baby I hold in my arms and call my own. I don't think I enjoyed Caroline's infancy enough because I was tired and terrified. I have enjoyed Charlotte's baby months so much more because I am not as focused on the mechanics of ch...

A few Sundays ago, early in the morning, I put one child down for a nap while the other lazily rolled out of bed ready to veg on the couch, eat a waffle and watch Barney. I acted quickly on this rare opportunity and asked (I know, why do I feel that I need permission?) Andy if I could sneak back to the laundry room to walk on the treadmill. As fast as possible, I threw on running clothes and sneakers, knowing that at any minute a baby cry could end my potential work out. I dumped a load of laundry in the washer and spent the next twenty minutes listening to my ipod and speed walking. I'd cut out a 10-minute exercise plan from a women's magazine and carried it, and my yoga mat, to the living room, in hopes of catching an extra few leg lifts and sit ups. I tossed the mat next to the TV and tucked the exercise sheet underneath it for another day. Baby had awoken from her power nap and was rolling around on the floor, the preschooler was jumping from the couch to the floor, just i...

Five o'clock used to be my favorite time of day, for the obvious reason that work was over and I could do whatever I wanted with my evening. Since I used to be a morning runner, I actually have no idea what I once did with my work nights other than eat dinner in front of the TV, but it was relaxing, nevertheless. I ate what I wanted, watched TV shows of my choosing and fell asleep as early or late as my body determined reasonable. Kids make life after 5 pm (and before 9 am) very hectic and tiring. The post-work routine includes rushing to preschool/daycare, bundling kids up, having snacks ready for the car ride and dodging deer for 27 miles of darkness (and often, snow and sleet). Once home, we make multiple trips in from the car, carrying kids, bags, kid's crafts and trash. Then we get everyone out of winter and work wear, rush around like crazy getting more snacks for kids while we make dinner, serve dinner, get up and down while getting more drinks, more helpings and dropped...